All Things Practical
by Catchline
Summary: When Sesshoumaru received an invitation from Malfoy to become a Hogwarts professor, he expected dark lords and politics. What he did not expect was Inuyasha turning up, bringing along demons that should have stayed in the past. IYHP nonHBP compatible
1. Prologue

**A/N:** And I'm back! This was inspired by my Social Studies class, where my teacher has a fetish for politics, and somehow it rubbed off on me. It starts slow, but at around the 5th chapter it more or less picks up. (And this I know, because I've already finished 5 chapters.) Happy Reading!

**Summary:** When Sesshoumaru receives an invitation from Lucius Malfoy to become a professor at Hogwarts, he expected dark lords and politics involved. What he did not expect was for his brother to travel 500 years into the future, bringing with him wars and demons that should have stayed in the past. Non HBP compatible, all pairings are canon ones. (Though any extra ones can be intepreted any way you want.)

**Rating: **T (For language and a general blood bias that might corrupt young children. We ARE talking about Slytherins, Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru, after all.)

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**Prologue**

"…and so he would be arriving next month, together with the Minister of Magic, who would be…"

Jaken was incessantly rambling again, quickly destroying what was left of Sesshoumaru's patience on what was otherwise a beautiful evening. At the lofty altitude, mist pooled generously at his feet, swirling together with the strong winds that tugged at his hair, lifting silvery strands of hair up to the sky. The clouds, splashes of orange and magenta cradling the setting sun, hung so low in the sky that one would fancy being able to reach out and feel them.

Sesshoumaru sighed. "Jaken?"

"Yes, milord?"

"Silence." Had it not been for his strict upbringing, Sesshoumaru would have pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Luckily for him, violence towards pests was accepted by said upbringing, and he lifted up a foot to kick the offending wails into silence. Yet before he could execute the tempting action, the sound of flapping wings in the distance caught his attention, distracting him from the task at hand. A sniff identified the newcomer as an eagle, but it was the bittersweet scent of parchment and ink that caught his attention.

There was only be one family self-important enough to use eagles as delivery birds, and he wondered wryly what the Malfoys had planned for their latest victim, making a mental note to watch out for possible discriminating evidence in the hands of whoever the eagle was heading for.

Interactions of, or with, the Malfoys were not always cause for wariness. There had been many instances where he had cooperated with them due to business or social reasons, and as far as functions went, they were generally reasonable people, if one could ignore the condescending attitude that seemed to plague each generation. Calls aside, however – and now was far from the season of interacting – it was a completely different matter. If there was one word to describe the Malfoys, it was 'ambitious'. It didn't matter each generation – they were constantly clambering after some dark wizard or other, and at the same time manipulating the political arena as well as the business world while still maintaining a respectable appearance to the rest of the world.

Pressing a foot into Jaken's (now squashed) face, Sesshoumaru watched with narrowed eyes as the silhouette of the bird slowly came into view as it descended from its previous route amongst the clouds and swooped towards him. He easily caught the envelope that fell from its talons, and, taking in the distinct smell of the quality wax that sealed the flaps, peeled it open to extract the slip of (expensive) parchment from inside.

_Mr. Taishio,_

_You are invited to attend a tea party at Malfoy Manor on July 5 at 3pm._

_Sincerely,_

Lucius Malfoy

The note was short and straightforward, the lack of question to his attendance leaving no room for argument and practically demanding his presence – typical of a Malfoy. The reason behind this was not unclear: the Malfoys were one of the few prominent Wizarding families in the Great Britain – they were one of the richest, the most powerful, most influential families you could find in the place; they controlled the wizarding economy, pulled the strings behind the Ministry, and almost everyone who wanted to rise in society wanted to, if not gain their regards, at least avoid entering their black books at any cost.

But Sesshoumaru Taishio wasn't 'every man'. Since his arrival in the Great Britain centuries ago, the name he literally created for himself rose rapidly in ranks into the center circle of the corporate world, and now, as the founder and owner of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, he held the strings of every single witch and wizard, dead or alive, through their finances. Few families shared his status, and even fewer were considered above him, and the Malfoys, fortunately for him but unfortunately for them, belonged in the former category.

The eagle was now swooping around his head, evidently waiting a reply. Sesshoumaru spun on his heels and walked off, dismissing the bird. Once it flew out of sight, Sesshoumaru watched the ball of crumpled parchment plunging down the heights of the cliff, a green cloud of acid smoke trailing behind it.

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Malfoy Manor always seemed to showcase more rare items on its shelves than before whenever one visits, no doubt an attempt to remind – or perhaps its purpose was intimidation? – visitors of their wealth. Lucius Malfoy himself was nowhere to be seen, and the manor was empty of people as Sesshoumaru followed the impeccably-dressed butler – a cross between a vampire and an elf, he guessed – through the winding corridors.

He spotted the blond in the balcony. "Lucius."

"Sesshoumaru. I didn't receive your reply. For a moment there, I thought you weren't going to turn up." The statement was deceptively conversational, but there was steel behind the gray eyes that revealed his less than amusement at yesterday's little stunt.

"Forgive me, Lucius. You didn't give me any room for declination." _Did he even think that he could win an argument with a demon fifteen centuries his senior?_

"Indeed. I trust you found your way here fine? Do have a seat." Lucius' smile was icy as he gestured towards the empty chair opposite him. Malfoy may be a bastard, but he knew his social etiquette, and more importantly, Sesshoumaru mused as he lowered himself into said chair, he had class. The balcony was made of pure marble, decorated tastefully with a few overhanging plants. Greek daises were positioned at the four corners, of which the outer two had statues sitting atop. Gleaming velvet curtains the color of wine framed the arch that served as a doorway, held up by gold ropes that hadn't seen a day of fraying. The tables and chairs were, too, made of marble, though of a vastly different sort as compared to the balcony itself. The cushions on the chairs were silk, he noted, designed to force one to sit straight lest he slipped off the slippery material and knocked his head onto the glass that served as the table's top. The tea set was made of fine china, rimmed with black and (real) gold, steaming with the subtle fragrance that came with high quality tea. Two spoons of cream and one of sugar. Malfoys knew how to hosts their teas, but that was hardly surprising – though Sesshoumaru suspected that Lucius only memorized everyone's preferences so it appeared as though he knew them intimately, an intimation tactic that was not only privy to this generation of blonds. For those who didn't recognize the ongoing manipulation, there were few things as subconsciously intimidating as sitting in front of a faux-friendly man who knew one's habits by heart.

The customary pleasantries were exchanged before Lucius smoothly steered the conversation into the topic. "You're not too busy next year, I trust?"

"No more than usual, Lucius. Unless, of course, there is another break-in. It took me two whole months to test and replace the security." _Whatever you want me to do, Malfoy, would not happen if you pull a stunt like that again._

"A regrettable incident, I'm sure." Insincerity laced the agreement. "But Gringotts' timing was impeccable, as per usual. A few hours later and the contents of the vault would have been taken."

"Albus has a knack for last minute actions." Lucius could interpret that anyway he wanted.

"I suppose you've heard of his current crisis?"

"Which one?" _Getting to the point now, Lucius? What are you playing at?_

"Finding a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher for Hogwarts. We've been hard pressed for a professor, especially now that school term's drawing closer. As a member of the Board of Governors, I'm quite liable if that happens." Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow at his words, before pausing slightly to choose his own reply.

"And I suppose you've made a space for say, an owner of Gringotts?" _You're not offering me the position, I suppose? I doubt there's any room for negotiation._

"Teaching is a very lucrative business."

"Teaching a bunch of students from eleven to seventeen is taxing." _Give me better reasons to accept, Lucius._

"It is a very…interesting job." _It is a rewarding job. _The blond drawled, playing idly with the head of his cane, gray eyes looking up unblinkingly at the demon, communicating what his words didn't.

"Indeed." This Sesshoumaru could not dispute. The last time he had visited Hogwarts to see Dumbledore, he had returned home with a student who was turning out to be one of the best curse-breakers in Gringotts. Charlie Weasley was now quickly on the path to promotion, and he would need to find replacements.

"In that case, you can expect an owl in a few days." Lucius saw the opportunity and jumped at it, giving Sesshoumaru no chance to disagree. "I await your good news."

Sesshoumaru kept his polite smile as they parted, but underneath the front, his mind was turning at high speed. There was no doubt that the blond was working for Voldemort since he bailed himself out of Azkaban a few months ago, and Sesshoumaru had the suspicion this had something to do with the rise of the 'flight of death'. Personally, he couldn't care less about the subject, and a human wasn't particularly his idea of devil impersonated – he saved that description for his (half) brother – yet experience had taught him to be prudent regarding the matter.

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He apparated onto the grounds of his manor with a loud crack, ignoring the short, squat figure of Jaken that hurried out to greet him as he pondered over Lucius' actions. From what he'd heard and gathered, past Professors up for the mentioned post were either close confidants of Dumbledore, spies from the other side, or incompetent twits who end up in Saint Mungo's. He wasn't a close confidant of Dumbledore – technically, he _was_, over half a century ago, but that generation had 'passed away', both figuratively and literally, and 'this generation' was not very well acquainted with the old wizard – he definitely wasn't an incompetent twit, but neither was he on Malfoy's side of the war, so sending him out to spy for them would be risqué, to say the least, a move neither Lucius nor Voldemort would employ.

Sesshoumaru was no stranger to matters of politics – he _was_ the Lord of the West, after all – and he was used to weaving his way through a battlefield of manipulations and traps. To do so, however, could require him to at least know _what_ the trap was, and, try as he might, Malfoy's motives remained unknown.

The answer lurked in his subconscious, brushing against his mind in wispy tendrils of ideas that never presented themselves. He did not enjoy being kept in the dark, and dawn found him staring unblinkingly at his bookshelf, as still as a statue. It was doubtful they wanted to lure him out for another attack on Gringotts – he had checked and there was nothing of remote interest to the Death Eaters, unless their next step was to deprive their opposition of their money, a laughable idea in itself. No wizard worth his salt financially had more than half of his property in cash. The Malfoys, for one, contained in their numerous vaults less than a tenth of their wealth, the rest of which were stored in the form of stocks and other possessions – a fact they never failed to brag about.

Such was the situation when a house-elf came with his breakfast that morning, squawking in horror at finding his master arm-deep in folders of information he had dug up the last night and wailing resolutions to iron his – or her, Sesshoumaru never did see any need to differentiate between genders of these inferior creatures – ears immediately after clearing the mess. He ignored most of the inane chatter, focusing only when it mentioned the presence of a certain Potions Master at the Floo.

Indeed, when he entered the parlor, there was a dark head floating amidst green flames in the fireplace. "Severus." _Of course._ If there was anyone Lucius would send to convince Sesshoumaru to take up the offer, it was Severus Snape. An established Potions Master at a ridiculously young age, not to mention the one responsible for single-handedly salvaging the Snape family name from the hands of his father, Severus had gained Sesshoumaru's respect even before they had met. (It had taken Sesshoumaru three generations worth of time to establish his 'family name', yet the Potions Master had rescued it from the slums in a matter of a decade.) When they actually met, Sesshoumaru had taken to his sarcastic, acerbic sense of humor and introspective views of affairs – when he was not in one of his tempers, of course, during which he would be too caught up in his rage to be objective – whilst the other was won over by the demon's extensive knowledge on magic (first hand, but he needn't know that). Personally, Sesshoumaru suspected the man had a weakness for the fair-haired.

"Sesshoumaru. You have heard from Lucius, of course." The Potions Master was paler than he remembered, gaunter, and – not surprisingly – more sullen than before. He never had much appreciation for the finer points of social etiquette, and with his foul temper, he came closer to brusque than gruffly polite, and the lack of courtesies came as no surprise to Sesshoumaru.

"Indeed. And am I to presume that you're here to persuade me to accept the offer?"

"It would, of course, be much simpler for both of us if you just agreed to it. I can get back to planning lessons for those incompetent dunderheads I teach and you don't have to suffer people popping up in your fireplace continuously."

"_Wingardium Leviosa._ Tea?" Sesshoumaru levitated the teapot from the shelf with a wave of his wand and tilted it questioningly._ You don't like wasting your time either. Tell me then, Severus, what he's up to. Neither of us want to stand here making small talk._

Severus frowned, partly at Sesshoumaru's hidden message, partly at being burdened with the annoyance that was small courtesies and partly because frowning had become a habit for him over the years. "I have no time to waste over insignificant niceties, Taishio. Much as I find this little conversation amusing, I have other appointments to keep. We can discuss the finer details of Dumbledore's insanity some other time." _This information is not for you, you should have realized that._

"In that case, I'll send my reply when Hogwarts' letter arrives." _Then this discussion is officially over._

"I shall see you in Hogwarts, then," Severus agreed silkily. _You know what your decision should be._ There was a loud pop, and he disappeared in a vortex of green flames, but Sesshoumaru paid no attention to these details, mind preoccupied by a fleeting memory that caught his attention.

_The tension in the room was palpable, so much that Sesshoumaru had to enclose himself in a layer of youki lest he was crushed by the strong waves his uncle was giving out. Nonetheless, his face remained impassive, and the little display of strength had not changed his mind in the least. "I stick to my words, Lord Nagasaki. My father will not be taking another mate, even if his current one is a human. If you wish to marry off your daughter, I suggest that you wait until his current Lady of the Western Lands departs." Sesshoumaru set down his cup of sake with the same stoic calm he had picked it up with, eyes never leaving those of his uncle's._

_His uncle smiled then, a slow, lazy smile that held no hints of the rejection just moments ago, and drunk from his own cup in slow, sure sips. _I'm not afraid of incurring his, or your, wrath, _the action said. _You will not be able to harm me._ "In that case," he drawled, inspecting the jade cup in front of him as he would a nail, the very image of nonchalance. "I shall see you in my castle on the next moon." He got up languidly, taking his time to dust imaginary specks of dirt off his immaculate kimono._

_Sesshoumaru resisted the temptation to pour his sake onto the silver material in front of him, instead gesturing towards the door with his arm, serenely swirling his cup in the other hand. "I wish you a good trip." He didn't stop the gesture until his uncle's footsteps faded away, controlling his movements with the same indifference the other inuyoukai offered. _Lady of the Western Lands_. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, as though mockingly reminding him of a time he had called a worthier woman that title. But the human was his father's mate, and he made sure everyone knew it. He had never called it _The_ lady. It didn't deserve the title, and his words were his constant reminder to it that no one had carried out an assassination yet thanks to Tenseiga._

_He glanced down at his uncle's empty cup, once again reminded of the conversation just moments ago. No matter how Nagasaki put it, it was obvious that his uncle was merely trying to get rid of his daughter. Satsuma made a fine daughter, and she was both powerful and beautiful, but she was also just about as business-minded as a rock, and bound to spoil any social function she went to, which was a dampener on any man who wanted to marry her. Most likely Nagasaki was sick of her wasting his property on her whims and wanted to push her off to someone else._

_As for their meeting the next moon, well… Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed. No doubt since his father would not accept Satsuma, Nagasaki was moving on to the next victim._

_Whatever Nagasaki planned (and he had a good idea what), it was not going to happen. His uncle just had to find someone else._

Sesshoumaru couldn't help feeling surprised. His current position was incomparable to that which he held five hundred years ago, and whilst anyone's association with him then could be interpreted as pulling strings, he hardly considered this possibility anymore, especially when interacting with people like the Malfoys. They didn't need financial backing from him, and with his neutral stand in politics, he wasn't likely to help them in the war, which more or less ceased their need to interact with him on a closer basis.

But the idea, while improbable, wasn't impossible, especially if Malfoy took his orders from someone higher up. So, Voldemort was gathering followers again, and he was now a target. Sesshoumaru thought about this new turn of events, considering the possibilities that lay before him.

There was no way he would follow the human. He may have sunk to the status of them to blend into society, but he had not fallen so far as to obey orders from a _human_. Yet neither was he likely to join the self-proclaimed good side. Those labels were for moralistic fools like his half-brother and his wenches, and he was not in a hurry to join them in their quest for self-destruction. He held neither obligations nor ties to the Wizarding World, and he was not a participant of the next fool's quest for world domination.

Yet, and here he reminded himself that it was typical action for a human, it seemed that he would be forced to make a choice again. Sesshoumaru forced down the snarl making its way up his throat. No one, especially not a human, would force _him_ to do anything.

He could, he reasoned, murder Voldemort before he made any further actions. Despite the human's so-called legendary prowess, Sesshoumaru had no doubt that he could take care of him in less than a second. Yet it was the aftermaths that caused his hesitation. Whilst demons were content in their world of personal space and privacy, humans seemed to have the unending energy to pry into others' lives and make a huge fuss of everything. As it was, he had to contend with reporters snapping pictures of him from not-so-well-hidden corners of restaurants and streets. He would not give them an excuse to harass him in broad daylight.

Or he could go along with their plan. There was no doubt that Lucius has arranged it so that Hogwarts could not turn him away from the position. He was not adverse to the idea of teaching. He was confident in his ability to take care of a bunch of humans. The change of an abode was just a mild inconvenience, the added work was no more than a few second's of marking papers at high speed, and he was admittedly lured by the idea of finding one or two curse breakers, if only to keep pesky intruders out of Gringotts. "Jaken."

The toad was at his side almost instantly. "Yes, milord?"

"List all the appointments that are planned from September 1st of this year till the next."

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"Inuyasha, please!" Kagome's exasperated voice sounded in the house for the umpteenth time that day. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips, wrist loaded with the straps of the two suitcases beside her where she stood at the bottom of the tree, glaring up at the half-demon above her. "This is ridiculous! Give me back my bag!"

"No!" Inuyasha looked down at her from where he was perching on the branch, her bright yellow duffel bag clutched protectively in his chest.

"Inuyasha…" Kagome gritted her teeth. "S-I-T!"

She winced as he fell from the imposing height to the ground, mud muffling his shout as he plunged down headfirst. She really didn't want to use that trick, especially not when he was sitting at _that_ height, but this was too much.

"Feh!" Inuyasha spat the mud out from his mouth, bag miraculously still in his hand. "You wench! You said you wouldn't do that again!"

"You're being unreasonable!" She shouted back at him. "I told you, they're out of tickets! You can't come with me!"

"What's wrong with sitting on top of that metal box!"

"It's dangerous!"

"Then why are you sitting in it?"

"That's different!"

"What's so different? If you can sit in it safely, then I can sit outside it safely too!"

"I told you! It's cold! It's dangerous!"

"I've faced winters colder than the sky! And it's summer now! Besides, if I can survive _both_ Sesshoumaru and Naraku, I can survive a metal box!"

"It's an airplane! And no, you can't go, and it's final!" Kagome took in a large gasp of air, turning resolutely away from him. She couldn't believe him. The moment she told him (with no small amount of trepidation) that he couldn't get on the same plane as her due to a lack of tickets, he had taken it into his head that either he went along with her, or she wasn't going at all. And sitting on top of the plane…the idea was ludicrous in itself! She could feel her face burning, partly due to her anger, partly due to the fact that she had been shouting non-stop for the past five minutes, and partly because…

She was eighteen. Eighteen, for goodness sake! She didn't need Inuyasha running after her like she was still fifteen! And besides, this was now. Naraku was dead (well, technically not dead, but since he'd disappeared without a trace, he was as good as dead), and she could more than protect herself. Especially from something as common as planes! And besides, who did Inuyasha think he was anyway! He followed her down the well on the pretext that she 'couldn't be trusted to protect herself', and now he was refusing to let her work just because _he_ didn't trust a 'rickety metal box with the ridiculously heavy wings'! She turned back to him, pointing a menacing finger at his nose. "Give me back my bag before I say the 'S' word."

Inuyasha glared at her. "Feh. Do what you want. I don't care." He tossed the bag at her feet, stalking off into the forest behind the shrine.

Kagome watched his retreating back and heaved a sigh as he disappeared into the forest. "It's for the best, Inuyasha! I'll send you a ticket to England the moment I get one!" She gave the canopy of leaves an energetic wave – he was there somewhere watching her, she was sure of that – and purposefully turned her back on the place she had called home, be it now or five hundred years ago, for the last eighteen years of her life.

A pair of golden eyes watched her leave, and the moment she moved out of sight, the owner of the eyes leapt out of the forest and after her.

"Feh. Stupid woman. As if I'd let her go alone."

_To be continued..._

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**A/N: **No fangirl japanese at all, save some prefixes and suffixes that don't sound right when translated into english. It may not be very obvious in this chapter, but there'll be some 'sama's in the next. All criticisms (constructive AND destructive, though I'll very well prefer the former) will be listened to and appreciated.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** Cause I forgot to mention it last chapter: I'll be doing my best to post this up every month. It helps that I've finished until chapter 6, though I may occasionally forget. (Like I did yesterday.) Of course, reviews that help remind me are very much appreciated. Grins Actually, I was going to send this to my beta - Professor Spector - for vetting, but I forgot until today, and I very much want to keep to my schedule. So another un-beta-ed chapter, though I swear I'll actually remember for the next one. XD

**Summary:** When Sesshoumaru received an invitation from Lucius Malfoy to become a professor at Hogwarts, he expected dark lords and politics involved. What he did not expect was for his brother to travel 500 years into the future, bringing with him wars and demons that should have stayed in the past. Non HBP compatible, all pairings are canon ones. (Though any extra ones can be intepreted any way you want.)

**Rating: **T (For language and a general blood bias that might corrupt young children. We ARE talking about Slytherins, Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru, after all.)

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**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter was sulking. Not that he'd admit it, of course, but he was sulking nonetheless. He huddled up in a corner of his room, glaring at the dirty whitewashed walls around him. The walls offended him. In fact, everything offended him today. Even the rare silence at the Dursley's was offensive.

"Boy!" Vernon's shout resonated through the house. Speak of the devil. Harry's glare intensified. Come to think of it, he'd prefer being deaf to being subjected to that pig's horrendous clatter. "Bo-o-y!"

Punching the floor, he got – or rather, stomped – to his feet and flung open the door. "I'm coming!" he yelled downstairs. He slammed the door behind him, imagining the doorframe to be Vernon's face, and plodded down the stairs with a din that would make Dudley proud.

Upon seeing Harry, Vernon opened his mouth, as though to say something, but thought better of it and closed it again. The very motion seemed to take a lot of effort, and his face turned a brilliant shade of purple.

_He looks like a purple slug,_ Harry thought ungraciously. He imagined what it'd be like to squash that face beneath his feet, and decided that it would be extremely pleasant.

"Eat." Vernon gestured towards the plate on the table. "Before those…friends" he choked on the word "of yours decide to accuse us of starving you again."

"I'm not hungry," Harry muttered, preparing to go up the stairs again.

"Bullshit. You haven't eaten for five days already. I don't want those freaks popping in on us again and claiming that we haven't been feeding you." Vernon snarled.

Harry could feel the anger rising up in him like a tidal wave. "Well, I'm not hungry! It's not as though you care anyway, and if Lupin cares whether I've been eating, he can bloody well check!" Apparently Vernon was not one to take being shouted at lightly, for he leapt to his feet, large frame towering over Harry. "And besides, what can you do anyway? You don't even dare lay a finger on me," Harry taunted, feeling satisfaction in knowing that Vernon, so used to bullying those smaller than him, could do nothing in the face of his defiance save brooding on his cowardly ass. After realizing that a few days after he returned to Pivet Drive, his favorite pastime had quickly changed from taunting Dudley to taunting Vernon.

Harry spun on his heels and headed for the stairs. "And don't stomp!" Vernon's voice was grating on his ears.

"You didn't mind when that fat pig of yours do the same!" The response was out before he realized it, delivered with a vicious malice that managed to lift his spirits. He had been waiting for so many years to say that, and even if he couldn't see the expression on Vernon's face, there was great pleasure in imagining that cow-like face twisting in anger. Sirius would be delighted to see it.

As quickly as it had spread, the smile slid off his face. Sirius… despite the weeks that passed, his godfather's death was still as raw and painful as an open wound. His steps slowed, and every movement of his feet felt like they were dragging a thousand ton of heavy chains along with them. If it weren't for him, Sirius would still be alive now. Who knows, he could even be free. The Ministry would have cleared him of all charges, but what use was that now that he was dead? He punched the banister. It should have been him instead, but Sirius tried to protect him, and now he was alive but Sirius was dead.

It wasn't over until it's over. And then there's the Boy-who-always-bloody-Lived and his dead dead dead godfather.

Harry dragged himself up the stairs and back into the welcoming confines of his self-imposed prison. Ironic, that now when he wanted to be locked up, Vernon had taken off all the locks and deadbolts. But then again, life had always been ironic when concerning him. He was the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World for heaven's sake, and yet as far as he was concerned, he had done nothing save endanger those around him.

He stared up at the peeling ceiling above him from where he lay on the thin mattress for a long time, hoping to clear his mind with the not-quite-patterns in the dirty white, not noticing when his sight started darkening before him.

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The graveyard was empty save for four figures, all dressed in dark, hooded robes that cast their faces in darkness. Two of them were bowed before a third, seated on a 'throne' in the shape of a twisted grim reaper. The forth cowered behind the throne, almost invisible in the thick fog, and would have been unnoticeable if he didn't emit a few squeaks every minute.

"So Lucius," The voice that emitted from the figure on the 'throne' was thin, high-pitched and raw, like that of an infant who screamed too much. "How is it going?" Only his mouth and chin was visible, the waxy skin splitting apart when he talked to reveal a mouth that might as well have been the black hole itself. Beneath the skin, red veins protruded in clear contrast against the pastiness of his face, mapping out the skin in sections of small red lines.

One of the two before the throne stood up upon being addressed, hood falling behind to reveal piercing blue eyes and a sharp, pointed chin set on a pale face. "All is well, my lord. The other candidates have all…backed out, and that old fool will go according to our plans." Lucius voice was barely a murmur, heard only in the silent stillness of the place, but there was a cold smile on his lips that lent malicious intent to his words.

"Excellent. And you, Severus?"

The other bowed figure straightened. "I am working on it, my lord. He will agree to it. It is only a matter of time." The silky voice carried confidently across the empty graveyard.

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll just have to use other methods of…persuasion." Black eyes stared straight into the dull surface of the grim reaper's scythe, death reflected in the ebony depths.

"That's not the reply I want. _Crucio._" As blood dripped onto the floor from Severus Snape's hands where the silver mask he was holding pierced his palms from the pain, Voldemort finally looked up and laughed, his red eyes glowing like embers.

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"Harry. Harry!" In the midst of darkness, there was a blurry figure with brown hair shaking him. Weakly, he tried to grasp the hands holding his shoulders, but he found that his fingers could hardly grip anything, and they slipped uselessly back onto rough material of the mattress. "Wake up, Harry!"

It was Remus' voice. Harry squinted at the face before him, vision finally clearing enough to allow the view of a pair of amber eyes, currently staring at him in concern. "Re-Remus?" His throat felt raw and parched, and the words came out in hoarse gasps of air.

"He came in when you were screaming your head off." Petunia Dursley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and face pinched. She looked as though she would rather be dead than here watching them, yet she made no move to extract herself from their presence.

"Are you all right, Harry? It's been three days and we still haven't heard from you and we were worried, so they sent me, only to find you here thrashing and screaming." Remus' hands kept themselves busy, checking his pulse and temperature with one hand and casting diagnostic and warming charms with his other.

It was only then that Harry realized how cold he was. His hands were red and clammy, and he had not even enough energy to even sit up. Remus' words reminded him, however, and his previous anger cut through the blanket of sleepiness enclosing him. Of course, the letter. How could he forget? The last time he didn't write, they had sent Severus Snape down to check on him. Snape, of all people. Snape! He had come swooping in with those black robes of his, stared down his nose at him, and started lecturing him.

"_While I'm sure, Potter, that you enjoy being the center of attention, I regret to inform you that the Order comprises of busy people who cannot cater to your every whim and fancy. So if you please, do take some time off your…_busy_ schedule," and there his eyes swept across the messy room disdainfully, "to inform us of your progress in the miserable art of self-pity." He flicked his wand at Harry, raising a contemptuous brow at the diagnostic results of his spell. "Starving yourself now? Is anorexia the new claim to fame, Mister Potter? I would have thought better of you than wasting the life your fur-bitten mutt of a godfather died for."_

_Rage boiled within him. How dare he? "You bastard!" He yelled, lunging at the potions professor. "You're just jealous because Sirius will forever be a much better man than you can hope for, even in death!"_

_Severus Snape merely dodged the poorly coordinated blow, aggravatingly confident in Harry's inability to hit him. Just before he fell, however, Snape reached out and grabbed his shirt collar, practically hauling him until they were face to face. Harry raised an arm to strike at him again, only to have a vial practically shoved up his nose. "Drink it." Snape murmured, though coming out of his mouth, it might as well have been a command._

"_What's thi-" Harry demanded, but the moment he opened his mouth, Snape tilted the vial and tipped the contents in, taking advantage of Harry's shock to force his mouth shut, long, strong fingers keeping his lips sealed until he swallowed._

"_Nutrient replenishing potion, Potter. And you have until seven-thirty on Thursday to send a letter before the order sends someone to check on you _again._" The stressing on the 'again' left nothing to the imagination about how Snape felt to be there, but before Harry had a chance to even open his mouth, there was a soft 'pop' and the potions master disapparated, leaving only Harry there with the bitter taste of the potion on his tongue._

Snape! Of course! Bits and pieces of his not-quite-nightmare returned to him and he sat up straight, trying to voice out the events all at once as his anger resurfaced with a vengeance. "Voldemort! He…he's planning something! And Snape! In it together, crucioed, Malfoy-Dumbledore is tricked! They're planning something! They-"

"Hush, Harry. Hush." Remus gently pushed Harry onto his back. This may be just a delusion. You haven't eaten for many days, and Severus' nutrient replenishing potion should have run out by now. Here. Drink this." The familiar vial appeared again, and Harry had no choice but to gulp the foul tasting liquid down.

_I bet Snape made it foul just to spite me,_ he thought sourly as he fought back the automatic wave of nausea rising up within him. The moment he could feel the potion taking effect, he fought against Remus' hands. "I tell you, it wasn't a delusion! Voldemort's planning something, and Dumbledore's walking straight into his trap! Snape's blackmailing someone into doing something, I saw him talking to Voldemort, god damn it!"

"Calm DOWN, Harry!"

Harry shut up.

"Listen, Harry. I know this is very tough for you right now, but you must hold on. We're going to the Weasleys, they've put up all the necessary wards, you don't have to stay with the Dursleys any longer." Remus was rambling. For the first time since he woke up, he registered Remus' appearance. He was thinner, Harry saw. In the dim light of his wand, shadows danced in the hollow of his cheeks and he looked as though he hadn't shaved for a week at least. His hair was disheveled and his face dirty, and beneath his brown eyes the eye bags stood out like bruises. His shoulders, once always held square even in the face of his resignation from Hogwarts, were now sloped with a despair and bleakness that showed in the hunched back and downcast eyes.

He wasn't the only one Sirius left behind, Harry suddenly realized. The sudden understanding sapped away the remnants of his anger, leaving him a hollow figure with nothing to support himself with. He may have lost a godfather, but Remus lost more. Sirius was the last of the four Marauders that Remus had left, save Pettigrew, but he didn't count, and now, Remus was alone.

"I'm sorry, Remus." He grasped the rough – when had Remus' hands turned so coarse and withered? – hands in his, trying to communicate with his eyes what he couldn't say. _You still have me._

"Harry, I know losing Sirius hurt, but we have to-" Remus choked, his voice breaking at the sobs that tore its way up his throat, "-to move on."

Harry could feel his throat closing up, and, for the first time in weeks, his vision blurring. Crying was a relief, he found. All the pent up despair and misery found their way out of his throat in wrenching sobs, and together with his tears, he found all his bottled-up hatred leaving him.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Mum! Harry's here!" Ron's shout from the window was followed by a commotion, and within the next minute, most of the Weasleys were on the lawn in front of the rickety Burrow. It was just the same as ever, with its thatched roof and precariously balanced stones that made up the walls, and Harry felt a swell of warmth at the familiar feeling of home.

"Oh Harry!" The moment Mrs. Weasley laid eyes on him, she went from wiping her hands on her apron to enveloping the scrawny boy in front of her into a hug. Harry allowed himself to sink into her embrace, breathing in the scent of flour and cream that had always surrounded her. Two slaps on his back caused him to look up, straight into the identical eyes of the two twins.

"Heard you were coming back, mate, so thought we'll come and check it out." Fred/George/Fred grinned at him, giving him a 'thumbs-up' sign. "Not looking very good, but I'm sure mom will fatten you up in no time." He dodged the smack on the arm from his mother, winking his trademark grin at Harry.

Ginny stood behind her mother in her nightgown, smiling at him through tired eyes. Harry mouthed a 'hello' to her, and, turning, his face broke into his first true smile since the Ministry of Magic incident when his eyes landed on the familiar figure of Ron.

"Glad to see you, mate." He grinned.

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The grounds of Hogwarts hadn't changed much since the last time he was there, Sesshoumaru mused, save a particularly gnarled tree that stuck out in the middle of the field like a sore thumb. With its crooked, smashing branches, it served neither aesthetic nor security purposes, but when he questioned Severus about its presence, the Potions Master merely raised an eyebrow. "I am rather certain, Sesshoumaru, that I have not yet fallen to that level of insanity as to figure out the conundrum that is Dumbledore's mind."

The hut of the groundskeeper had been enlarged too, but the extension, which most likely functioned as the main house, was shabbily built. Rocks protruded from the walls at odd angles, and the roof could only be held together by magic. The half-giant standing knee-deep in the pond – "Hagrid," Severus had supplied – who could only be the inhabitant of the hut, turned around from what he was doing and waved upon their approach, a gesture that he reciprocated, inclining his head in acknowledgement.

Dumbledore's office certainly hadn't changed. Walking into it was like walking into a circus. It was still loudly decorated with a wide variety of the gaudiest items in the Wizarding world, nearly outlandish in their lurid colors. Neon bowls of sweets functioned as paperweights, and the one relief from the bright purple table was the parchment that littered the tabletop. Dumbledore was seated on a bright orange chair, dressed in clashing colors of navy blue twinkling with crescent moons. "Professor Dumbledore." Sesshoumaru nodded at him, closing the wooden door behind him.

"Mister Taishio. Please, call me Albus."

"Only if you call me Sesshoumaru, Albus." He flashed an obligatory half-smile, extending an arm in greeting as he walked towards the table. There was someone else there, he noticed. The person – it was a she – was well concealed with charms, but she had not done anything to hide her scent, and the trail or almost cat-like smell was hard to miss, even with a hundred different scents overwhelming his nose.

"Do take a seat, Sesshoumaru. Lemon drops? Or would you prefer tea? Ah, calling you that reminds me of your old grandfather." Dumbledore's hand, despite its wrinkled and decrepit appearance, had a firm grip, which he returned in professional likeness, maintaining eye contact with the twinkling pair opposite him.

Sesshoumaru headed for the most (and only) ordinary chair in the whole office. "You knew my grandfather?" It was the perfect response, complete with eyebrows raised with just the right amount of surprise for a boy whose grandfather died even before he was born. And a "tea, thank you.' as an afterthought.

"You look exactly like him, though you probably figured that out from the family portraits," Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed, I knew your grandfather. We met at a conference many years back, though I have to say he always aged more gracefully than me. But I can tell you more later. I suppose you're here for the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts position?"

"Doubtlessly."

"So tell me, what are your past experiences in the defense of dark arts?" Dumbledore peered at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses, fingertips resting against each other in front of his nose.

"My house butler is a vampire. There was a brief…tussle for dominance over the estate when my late father departed. Other than that, there is only the occasional creature to contend with in my estate. I shall hardly bore you with the exact list. The Taishios are known for harboring many creatures in the manor." Sesshoumaru mentioned the names casually, swirling the tea in the cup he was holding. Truthfully speaking, he probability had more contact with magical creatures in five hundred years than anyone else had in their life, mostly because few lived longer than five centuries, but Dumbledore wasn't supposed to know that. These creatures, created out of pure magic and nothing else, were one of the remaining links to his demonic heritage, and he was not going to let go of that easily. Briefly he wondered why Dumbledore was even asking these questions, and dismissed them as customary formalities. The _real_ questions would come later.

"Ah, that I remember. I've paid less than ten visits to the main manor, and I've already forgotten majority of the creatures I met there. Though, of course, that may just be old age. Your grandfather kept a fine specimen of a Thestral on his grounds. Is he still there?"

"I am afraid I have no idea. However, I can safely say that the Thestral found itself a mate, for now we have a family of Thestral in Taishio Forest." Apparently Dumbledore's eyes had not lost their ability to twinkle, something he had a knack for even in the strangest of situations.

"That's fabulous. I would enjoy visiting Darcy when time permits. But let's not get sidetracked, shall we? I've heard from Severus that you've had little prior teaching experience. Do you think you can tackle a group of teenagers from morning till afternoon?" Blue eyes twinkled at the demon before him. "Especially a group of…say, testosterone-filled teens?"

"I highly doubt they'll be causing too much trouble when I make the rules clear to them. Rest assured, Albus, that I have and will have no other intentions towards children. If there are any…particularly bothersome ones, I will turn to Severus for advice on how to deal with the situation." If he managed to escape from the clutches from female cat demons in heat, he doubted there was anything a human teenager could do to him.

"That's indeed comforting. I'm sure Severus will be glad to offer his assistance. But do tell me, Sesshoumaru, why are you applying for the position?" Dumbledore rested his chin on his fingertips, peering unblinkingly at the golden pair before him. "I believe being owner of Gringotts is a demanding job, and teaching is hardly an easy job."

"I am afraid you will have to be disappointed, Albus. I came purely on Severus' request." Any other answer was unbelievable. Had he actually wanted the position, he would have signed up for it a long time ago, not waited for until the ministry found someone to fill the position. "As for the work load, you will be surprised at how efficient goblins are at handling accounting. There is hardly anything for me to do save read through a monthly report, and most of the time I waste my afternoons gazing out into space." Two half-truths hardly made a whole, but he had never been one to have a conscience about lying.

The old man before him chuckled again. "I expected nothing else. Severus was the one who first nominated you for the position, you know."

"He did? Why, he never told me that." Neither did he send a reply when Sesshoumaru returned the owl with the confirmation that he was interested in the teaching position. And when they met earlier that morning, he didn't look surprised, proving that he had heard of Sesshoumaru's reply, but in typical Severus style, he had kept quiet.

"That's Severus for you. One last question, Sesshoumaru. I fear it may be slightly invasive, but I hope you understand that it's for safety precautions." Dumbledore's smile was still there, and so was the perpetual twinkle, but there was now a probing look in his eyes.

"Of course. I understand perfectly." He could feel the power that Dumbledore was so renowned for brushing at the edge of his consciousness, and wondered how often the headmaster's staff noticed his legimency at work.

"You must know of the current war, of course. Pardon the intrusion, but which side are you on?"

Sesshoumaru's smile didn't falter. The hand swishing the tea in his cup didn't even twitch, and there was not a single irregularity in his relaxed pose. He had been expecting such a question right from the start. Knowing Lucius, he would be selected for the position whether he passed this interview or not. Instead, he understood, this interview would be a _guide_. The previous questions had just been perfunctory appearances, and it was this question that decided what would happen in the next year.

"The same side as before, naturally. I believe that it was made clear when Gringotts started that the Taishios would not partake in any political struggles, much less one that involves warfare." And how he missed it, yet even if he had, there was no thrill in defeating a bunch of humans, and he refused to degrade himself to a battle with them. "Of course, I know that the Death Eaters are rather vigorous in their task of recruiting new members, but I highly doubt that any would attempt to attack me, not when their galleons are in my hands. Of course, I will not do anything that will endanger the name of Gringotts." The words slid out smoothly as though rehearsed, eyes never leaving the twinkling blue ones of Dumbledore as he lay his cards out on the table with selective truthfulness, saying more between the lines than in them. _I will not use Gringotts to aid you in this, Albus._

"Of course, Sesshoumaru. I'm not questioning your ability to withstand the Death Eater's offer." _Liar._ "What I mean is, what is your opinion on purity of blood?"

_All humans and half-bloods are abominable and should be terminated. And the purebloods are no different than them._ "Trust me, Albus. Whether your pupils are pureblooded wizards or muggle-borns make no difference to me. They are no different in my eyes." They are all weak humans. Did they think that having a pathetic amount of youki that was most likely the result of mutations in the first place, amplified only to the minimum level of sufficiency by their wands, would make them any different from their 'non-magical' counterparts? "There will be no preferential treatment from me." Had it been left to him, he would have ensured that all humans were put out of their miserable existence and that demons were free to do what they pleased on earth. However, as both time and experience had proven, these humans were not just as pesky but as hardy as cockroaches, and there was no way to stomp them out of existence. _If you can't change it, then you have to live with it._

"Excellent. If only there were more people like you, my boy. The world would be a much better place to live in." The strains of youki flowing around him vanished, and so did the watchful look in Dumbledore's eyes.

"I am flattered, Albus." _No doubt. Had his mother borne more children, perhaps Father would not have dabbled with that mortal, and that half-breed abomination would never have been born._ "If this is all, I am afraid I have to take my leave here, as I still have some matters to attend to. If you do not mind?"

"Of course not! Do have a nice day. Minerva, the deputy headmistress, that is, will send you the schedule for the lessons within this week."

"I will take note, thank you." Another half-smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. Sesshoumaru got up, finishing the previously untouched cup of tea in the process. "Good day."

"Same to you too!" Dumbledore's echoed in the spiral staircase long after Sesshoumaru shut the wooden door behind him.

_To be continued..._

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**A/N:** I hate formatting, I really do. As usual, all crits and comments welcome.

**Next Chapter: **Dumbledore and Minerva discuss Sesshoumaru, Harry and Ron de-gnomes, OWLs arrive, and Severus and Jaken finally make an appearance.


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